* drowning MAN !

i n t r o d u c i n g . . .       MARLOWE !

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the full moon's glow melted across the ocean's rippling surface, foam intertwining with its soft reflection. serene calm existed in that space between sky and sea. however, further down, creatures of fin and fang stirred. under the cover of dark, a serpent slithered. scales of sea-glass. milky skin. eyes like the ocean, cold and unforgiving. marlowe moved with a strength he'd not displayed in months. it had been only a few weeks since the return of divine ianthe, yet, in that short time, his power had been renewed. the merman was free to hunt, to lead, unflinchingly by her side.

his tail whipped impatiently as he circled the black waters in wait, when finally, patience taut, the target of his affairs tumbled onto his side of the chessboard. a rowboat's bow pierced the salty surface, followed by the hull and two feverish oars paddling with haste toward the grandiose pirate ship anchored less than half a mile from shore. marlowe shot forward with the swiftness of a harpoon. the muscles in his tail were tense with excitement.

however, marlowe had underestimated the strength of this single oarsman. the boat was nearly halfway between land and ship in the couple minutes it took him to reach its old, wooden underside. the creature wasted no more time. he spiraled downward into the deep; then, when not even arm's length from the sandy floor, he snapped his tail in one swift motion and flew back in direction of the stars. arms pinned to his side, marlowe rammed directly against the keel, sending the rowboat swaying dangerously. he threw himself against it again, but, lacking the momentum of his first assault, it still refused to capsize.

a day like many before it, marlowe found himself completely and utterly bored. even now, glassy eyes gazing thoughtlessly at the figure before him, he had to bite down upon his tongue to stop a disinterested yawn from escaping. with a webbed-finger, the merman trailed invisible lines across the lagoon’s otherwise serene surface, too easily allowing his attention to shift from the other’s words that bounced off his eardrums and back into the space between them.

unlike the summer air surrounding them, the water was ice cold and deeply comforting. desperately, he wished to sink back down to the floor of crushed bone and smooth stones and escape whatever task was being unwillingly laid atop his shoulders.     “ but what exactly can i expect in return ? “     , he hummed, shifting empty orbs away from them and onto the glow of his own marvelous tail — the color and glow having finally begun to return to it, along with his strength.

That sweet smile, as close to kind as her horrible highness could get to, twisted into something much more familiar to her features. A smile still to those who can’t see the next layer down, however… It hides something bitter, something much more dangerous than even a frown. Dear Marlowe would know it well - she’s annoyed.

Ianthe’s hand which had slipped from his hair darted to find it again, this time gripping those lovely curls with force. She “ guides ” his head back down to settle on the stone. He looked much prettier when he was asleep, all peaceful, mouth shut. “ Now, what sort of welcome is that? ” Razor sharp teeth catch glimpses of light as she speaks, lightly stained a beautiful crimson. “ Of course I have an idea, ” she practically hisses, offended by the idea, “ do you take me for a fool, Marlowe? ” The question is an absolute death trap by design. There’s no real right answer for Marlowe to give.

But he doesn’t have to, for not a moment later all that fury in her subsides and once again she’s as calm and serene as the water that gently ripples around them.

“ I’ll forgive your insolence this once, since you must be so overcome with emotion regarding my return, ” a low tone, as beautiful as it is rattling.

Once Marlowe has been firmly put in his place, back down below her gaze, her grip on his hair loosens and returns to that gentle play for a fleeting moment. She’s discontent with limiting herself to just one little part of him after that display from him. Dexterous digits adorned with nail that come to harsh points slide across Marlowe’s delicate skin. A wonderful buzz to be felt with the knowledge that pressing in ever so slightly would surely tear him like paper. She watches as little parts of him tense under the touch, Marlowe has always been a little ticklish. She adores that about him. Down his cheek they venture, across the side of his thin neck, over that jutting collarbone and tracing over his disgusting bony chest…

“ But you should try again, dear… ” She looks to meet those foggy eyes of his once more, staring into their depths. She can’t recall that sincere smile nor tone, just an echo of them, as she now sits upright and over him. “ Miss me? ” This time more a command than those melodic words that pulled him from sleep so gently.

he had misstepped. that fact was clear as day from the moment such a foolish accusation had jumped from off his bitter tongue. how shameful. the divine being’s anger, her displeasure, was a righteous. tensed corners of his jaw flinched as her hand extended towards him and spindly digits intertwined with roots of gold. still, in spite of his own feelings, how easily the beast allowed beauty’s spell to enchant him. falling into submission, marlowe did not fight nor argue nor scowl as ianthe guided him back into a prone position and, when his head rested upon the ocean-rock once more, arctic eyes fluttered closed, imitating the corpse-like slumber she’d stirred him from.

normally, the creature did not take kindly to the chastisement of other’s. alana was a fool, anouk was a witch, and nin was no one. their remarks pinched him like thorns in the side that further brewed the volatility bubbling within deep chasms of his black heart. but ianthe. ianthe’s voice, despite its dangerously sharp edge and biting tone, was sweeter than any song that met his ears. even her cruelty melted over the merman like honey. to be seen by her ( even at his most miserable ) was a blessing. now especially, the admonishments she rained down upon him sent shivers of perverse bliss throughout his feeble form. this was the closest thing to comfort he had felt in weeks.

marlowe dared a meek nod, basking in her forgiveness just as he had her chiding.     “ yes, i’m a fool. my self was lost in the excitement. “    , was murmured in agreement whilst eyes, sparkling in gracious admiration, cracked open to gaze upon her divine aura. those hungry orbs soaked up the vivid yet unreadable mix of her own, traced the perfect edges of her ethereal mask, brushed across her incomparable silhouette and lingered on the glittering scales of a slender tail. utterly perfect. ianthe encapsulated everything he could never achieve, something he became increasingly conscious of as sharpened nails danced across his sickly physique, causing him to tense and twitch under the tickle of her tender touch.

the words sounded rehearsed, like this was not the first performance he’d put on. as if it took patient practice to appease a being like herself. still, in spite of this, no words had ever been more true.     “ i missed you dearly for i am lost without you. i am a puppet with no one to pull at the strings. please do not leave me again, not so soon nor for so long. every day without your beauty to blind me, i die inside and out. i become nothing. i cannot bear it again. “     

desperately, he wished to wrap his grotesque form around his dark angel. he wished to hold her tight to him. to rest his head upon the softness of her lap. to never leave this moment. he carved the feeling of her touch, her words, her smell into a special corner of his mind. the poor, pathetic thing could not help it. marlowe adored the maiden, and he hated himself for it. he was sure that she saw him as nothing more than a pawn in neverland’s great game. but no amount of taunting or lashing could break him free from the restraints of obsession. painted in blood and bruises, he’d always came slithering back. just as the moon chased after the sun, he would forever follow her.

smooth porcelain was disrupted by the mountain range of shivers crawling its way out of his skin and taking shape as a thousand goosebumps, shamefully decorating his extended limb. completely bewitched, a vacant stare dug into the pirate while they nursed on the puddle of ruby-red so graciously offered to them. he had never witnessed such flagrant depravity from their kind. mortals dabbled in bloodshed and savagery, however, to sip upon a spoonful of raw, fluid humanity was taboo in even the most untamed groups and, though marlowe was not entirely human, he held resemblance enough that their act should not have been met with such glaring pleasure. 

the nerves beneath marlowe’s scale armor tingled where the pirate’s hovering hand cast its shadow. as they inspected the damage, the merman inspected them. his eyes may not have been the strongest, perpetually plagued by a ring of haze, but saw all that was needed to. the svelte of imperfect skin, scarred and puckered from an untold history traversing the open ocean. thick tendrils of raven waves that smelled of salt, brushing along sharp cheekbones and concealing the well-carved structure of their downturned face. ten long fingers attached to two strong hands, teasing the air above his gash.

The way in which the merfolk’s face became flush with a furious red only served to fuel the fire within Cecco’s battle-worn chest. Their hands holding up at their sides as if to show they meant no harm or offense, though the way their lips were haunted by a smirk proved their amusement. As seemed to be the case with the other merfolk they had encountered, their moods were as unpredictable as the wind. One moment they could be smiling sweetly at you, concealing the nature of their unnaturally jagged teeth, and as you blink, they are reaching for your ankles to pull you below the murky depths, wishing to cloud the water with a red hue so thick it almost appears to be black.

So fragile a people, to resort to swiping their claws and baring their claws as soon as another being shows a modicum of decency. Pride is the greatest destroyer of men, and so it seemed, it would also be the downfall of those who lay beneath the sea. Those who would rather wallow and accept death, than accept help that was laying before them. “Time heals all, surely, but infection can see that your time is cut short.”

A brow quirked up in amusement as Cecco shifted their weight upon the rocky shore, allowing their arm to rest atop the hilt of their sword. Rosewood hues gleamed with a mischief that threatened to consume their gaze. Perhaps the mer before them could be convinced to allow them a glance, just a ghostly peek at the injury that caused them to bleed.

“Would be a shame, to lose such a pretty face. For those warm waves to turn to ice around you. The sea would surely appear more dull, now that I have found the source of its enchanting glow.” Maintaining the distance between them, just ever out of arms reach of the nearly certain death that awaited them should they make even one mistake, Cecco squatted down to be more at eye level with the man.

“I shall make you a deal, if you are willing.” Their tongue flicked out, running across their lower lip before they spoke again. “Allow me to tend to your wound, and if the bleeding does not stop within the hour, then I will step within the waters willingly and we shall play a game.”  “But, should I be able to stop the bleeding, then you will have to allow me to come and change it out once again. Does this sound agreeable?”

“ a killer wishes to play their hand at healer ? sounds like the start to a tragic sonnet. “     marlowe’s sneer revealed a set of beautiful fangs, lined in perfect rows and sharp as a sharks. the girls made it look so easy to lure empty-headed humans to a watery grave. they twirled their hair, sang their songs, and the fellows would dive in so willingly, desperate for the kiss of death. he, though, could not feed without first performing acrobatic flips through one obstacle after the next. the sad beast was forced to hunt tirelessly for the smallest delights whilst their prizes seemed to fall right into their perfect, scaly laps.     “ besides, has no one ever warned you of the dangers in making deals with devils . . . “

still, undeniably desperate ( and not at all minding the attention ), the merman allowed himself to be fully submerged by crystalline water before slithering nearer. the sparkling surface of mermaid lagoon distorted his silhouette, creating a mix of gold and blue tied together by alabaster white. such an image did not remain clear, though, as the glassy tides were infected by spirals of dark red that escaped his messy salves sloppily slapped atop fresh wounds. when he resurfaced the liquids had mixed so jewel-drops of diamond and ruby streamed down his face and sparkled in his curls like a circlet-crown.

marlowe shot the other an unreadable look, something that lived between doubt and desire, as he slid up onto the rocks where they crouched. the stone blistered the delicate scales of his already injured ( and considerably delicate ) tail, warmed from the blazing sun. at a painfully slow pace, his sore muscles screaming from such effort, the creature leaned back so his marred silhouette was fully displayed to the pirate. a once pristine form had been soiled by scattered bruises and minor abrasions. marlowe ran a clawed hand along the battered skin, wincing in pain at his own slight touch.     “ pleased ? a damsel in distress readily at your disposable. though, i must ask, do all knights in shining armor smell of old parchment and cheap rum ? not that i am one to complain. i find the fragrance . . . delicious. “

his unblinking gaze, blue as the arctic sea and just as cold, bore into the stranger as if his eyes alone could peal back their layers and reveal the feast concealed underneath. his jaw ground together, muscles tensed to hold his ravenous nature back from pouncing upon the pirate at that very moment, their unsheathed sword reflecting a flash of warning. 

*PROMPT : she who became the sun.

anouk's voice possessed the gentleness of two stones being scraped together, tearing at his eardrums with its vexing melody. reigning from the eastern underbelly of the atlantic, the glorious creature enchanted and allured in a way that even captivated marlowe. the foreign air that lingered around her was so fresh, far more compelling than the old tricks of never's native folk.

still, she was a predator, as all merfolk are. survival favored the fittest, and marlowe clung desperately to the bottom of the totem pole upon which they all ranked. she poked and prodded at his shortcomings til the wounds were rubbed raw, shaving his dignity down to the bone. however, even her cruelest commentary dripped like honey.

" does it truly matter ? " he asked in turn. the mottled blue-green of his tail shimmered against the few rays of light peeking through the surface as he flicked it back and forth, eliciting a parade of bubbles to float upwards. " i'm the court jester; it matters not what i say as long as it gets a good laugh. "

*PROMPT : she who became the sun.

the color blue had never looked so dark as it did now; the vibrancy of icy irises faded into thick clouds of gray, a storm of furious passion. the sound of his pounding heart drummed in his ears, drowning out the foolish naivete of such odic words. it took a single twitch of his fin to close the gap between them, close enough for the heat of his murky chuckle to brush along her cheek.

the tension that pulled against every muscle in his tight form could be seen ever-clearly by the grinding intensity of a clenched jaw and the bone-white of fisted knuckles. " is that so ? " , he purred, voracious pupils narrowed to slits as they peered down on the excellence that was she. what a mockery she made, to proclaim something so farcical as that of the two being level with one another ! were her eyes as weak as his own to not see how much higher the ground she rested upon was ? were her slender arms too weak to fight off the truth of nature, the obvious fact that there was no likeness between the two other than the mythicism they existed from ?

*PROMPT : i actually can't remember . . .

the pungent musk of rotting decay assailed him, marlowe's nose wrinkling in distaste as he trailed after alana. he let her take the lead, swimming behind at a lackadaisical speed that transparently revealed the lack of delight he possessed in her whimsical antics. the wreckage displayed before them was not entirely without interest, though. the mermaid was right in believing the forgotten remnants of this skeleton ship were not as archaic as the forceful tides of their sea had eroded it to appear.

airily, he spun through the musty waters, poking and prodding at soft wood with feigned charm, desperately searching for anything to captivate his attention whilst alana paddled around in search of hidden treasures. marlowe's innate paranoia had been piqued by the ginger-haired folk, his eyebrows knitting together and skin prickling whenever she began to weave her silver-tongued words on this thing and that thing ( a hullabaloo of excuses, he'd always thought to himself ). the fellow had taken it upon himself to keep a watchful eye on her, as ianthe was much too busy to be bothered by his unfounded cynicism.

blonde curls danced with the bubbles around them as he floated down to the ship's floor, picking through bones and torn cloth for something shiny to grow his own collection of knick-knacks. marlowe's head tilted upwards at her cheery tone, arctic eyes shooting between her proud expression and the pile of water-logged manuscripts clutched tight. " hoping to teach the fish how to read ? " , he scoffed, turning his head away dismissively. still, he would not deny her such a simple pleasure.

marlowe pushed against the old floor planks, propelling himself upwards. the creature conceded with a passive sigh and shrug of his shoulders. " bring whatever you can carry, but expect no help from me. if you so desperately desire those worthless books, you can lug them back on your own. "

marlowe had learned to find comfort in solitude. in fact, he basked in the feeling of emptiness that eternally encapsulated his pitiful frame. it was much preferred this way. merfolk were not creatures that craved companionship; they did not require one another’s soft touch or sweet words to thrive in the ocean’s algid belly. carnage was their vice. supple skin being torn from bone, shredded by the knife-points of merciless fangs. the sweet nectar that was hot blood settling atop the tongue before sliding down down down a welcoming throat. screams, cries, agony filling one’s ears whilst thick flesh filled the pit of their ever-hungry stomach. this was a merfolk’s only wanting. this was marlowe’s desperate need.

unceremoniously pushed to the outskirts of the lagoon, the small corner he called his had grown much too familiar in the last weeks. his true home, however, has been built in ianthe’s shadow, allowing it cover him like a warm blanket in the otherwise frigid waters. but the sovereign did not need him in the ways he did her, and she would periodically disappear on whatever whims pleased her. ianthe was perfect, forged with the strength of crushing waves and beauty of the ocean’s hypnotic tides. yet for whatever reason, she seemed to entertain marlowe’s constant accompaniment, allowing him to use her has a shield against all that posed a threat against the poor fellow. without her—having only on his own words and whit to get by—the merman often resorted to hiding from the cruelty that lived deep within never’s lagoon, curling into as tight a ball as he could, in the darkest corner of his stony shelf, wasting away until she returned to save him from his wallowing.

this time, though, she’d been gone too long. he’d have bothered to worry about her if not too preoccupied with his own state of being. the beautiful glow of his alabaster skin had faded to lackluster grey. once sparkling scales ( a mixture of blues and greens, similar to scattered seaglass ) dulled with each day, and his fins had begun to wrinkle like wilting petals. sharp ribs and hollowed cheekbones etched shadows into his skin, further accentuating the creature’s already feeble state. marlowe was truly weak and worthless, as nature had intended him to be. not even the shrimp feared his shadow when it passed.

marlowe knew his death was an imminent point in the future of neverland’s story, but so soon ? it felt disappointing. there was much he’d wished to do, so many he’d hoped to conquer. a silver-tongued pirate with misplaced confidence in their eyes. a young girl with hair like raging flames, playing homemaker with those once her enemy. a merfolk gilded in glory, her laughter like wind-chimes that floated along the waves and shredded his ears. he’d wanted their bones to rest beautifully below his, encasing his body in an ivory casket, but, alas, he stood no chance in challenging fate. if death was his destiny, the fellow would welcome it.

then, through the thick fog of despair, a single ray of light finally peeked through. a tremor ran through his spine at the familiar touch entangling itself in his mess of blonde curls. marlowe jolted upright, turning to see her for himself . . . to ensure it was not just some trick played by a dying mind. relief washed over him the moment his eyes of azure met hers of deep violet.     “ ianthe. “

pirates were a perplexing breed. some were so easy to twist around his fingers, melting their hearts like goo in his palm with the simplest of sweet words or empty promises. others, like this one, had far too much cleverness about them. a careful caution that’d surely been cultivated over years of disappointment or betrayal. 

“ oh, don’t go being a spoil-sport. “     , marlowe pouted. still, his tail snapped, pushing him a few feet from the shore. maybe some distance would ease her apprehension over his company.     “ i am a bit biased, but i believe merfolk make for the best company. just ask your nine-fingered friend . . . they linger these waters often enough to call the lagoon a second home. “     a bit of an exaggeration, but surely even she knew how often cecco found themselves where ( or with those ) they should not be.

a scowl was tossed back at the young mermaid, her words holding more truth than he refused to accept. even a nymph as fresh and new as herself could easily pose a threat to marlowe, who battled each day to maintain even the smallest fragment of power that was wielded so naturally by the rest of his kind.

marlowe skulked back, flicking his tail in annoyance. nin, in spite of her relatively short time in neverland, was still considered an outsider in his mind—a foreign friend who’d ventured there by some miracle ( or mistake ). he forced his grimace upwards into a mock grin, slithering closer.     “ now, now ! watch what you say. it’s far easier to make enemies than it is friends. “     his fingers lightly tugged at her ebony tresses, swimming circles around her like a snake coiling its prey. but only for a moment. just as quickly, he sidled away into the shadows once more.     “ and i have the greatest friend of all. how unimpressed ianthe would be by a bitter-mouthed, bickering child like yourself. “

lips curled upward, revealing dangerously perfect fangs that sparkled as if carved from akoya pearls. smallfolk were, in his mind, simple and inconsequential creatures. while each possessed their own artillery of trickery—otherworldly abilities inherited only through fae-blood—even they could fall victim to a siren’s song. beauty was a formidable yet easily underestimated power. aside from his own cleverness, it was the only thing marlowe could dare claim to rival his fellow merfolk.

Marlowe’s verbal barbs missed their mark, leaving her unaffected and clearly unimpressed. Or perhaps they had landed a blow, as the bite in his tone lured in her in by making Anouk feel more invested in continuing her critical observations of the wounded mer instead of leaving him to bleed in desolation. 

“Well, feigning innocence is my calling card,” She countered and smiled prettily, accompanied by the shrug of one shoulder and a flick of her tail cutting through the water.

“Oh, how cute! We both know you should be grateful that I deigned to acknowledge you at all. But to pretend it’s irritating — malin!” Anouk drifted a bit closer, casting a considering look Marlowe’s way before asking, “Or have you actually convinced yourself that you really do prefer the solitude — barring Ianthe, of course; as if it’s a personal choice and not merely your lot in life?” She gave a shake of her head and let out a soft laugh, “No, of course not. Your defense mechanisms would never be capable of such a thing. My mistake.”

@lowetyde​​ | cont’d from here.

blame it on jealousy or weakness, but even marlowe could not deny the etherealism that anouk’s artfully carved features held. all merfolk were born with some gift graced by neptune, or whatever higher being the sea sung for. few were handed a lot of luck, others were touched by incomparable beauty, some had a whit sharper than their canines. her soul, however, often seemed to be forged by all that and more. marlowe wondered if all folk from the cold, french coasts from which she reigned could spout such grandiosity. was it why she had fled to neverland ? survival required exceptionalism, after all, not normality.

unfortunately, the sandy-haired man could not even claim ordinariness. 'mediocrity’ was much more fitting. his sheer existence seemed hollow at best and worthless at worst, never surmounting to anything more than : futile.     “ have you not considered that the lack of company i keep is the fault of those around me rather than myself ? a coterie of beautiful faces yet lacking anything of attraction further than skin-deep. “     , marlowe spat back, allowing his bitter embarrassment to peek through more than he’d wished. the lady’s words were scathing, burning in his ears, digging a hole into his head. she knew nothing.